Elior was kneeling on the stone, sleeves pushed up, dirt smudged along his fingers as he fussed over one of the smaller planters. He was talking to it under his breath—soft encouragement,like the plant might perk up just from being believed in.
Just like he did.
“It’s okay,” he murmured, carefully straightening a leaf. “You’re not dead. You can do this.”
I leaned against the doorframe for a second, just watching him. Watching the way the sun caught in his hair, the way his shoulders rose and fell, easy and unguarded. This—this—was why we couldn’t run. Why we wouldn’t.
He sensed me before I spoke.
“Hi, Daddy,” he said without turning around, voice light. “Did you know this one hates direct sunlight? I think it’s offended by—”
“Baby,” I interrupted gently.
That got his attention.
He looked over his shoulder, eyes immediately searching my face. The smile faded—not gone, just quieter, like he was bracing for something without knowing why.
I stepped outside and crouched in front of him.
“Hey,” I said softly. “First of all, you didn’t do anything wrong, okay?”
His brows knit together. “Okay…?”
I reached out then, taking his hands carefully, thumbs brushing over the dirt decorating his skin.
“They need you to testify again,” I said.
The words landed between us, solid and unavoidable.
For a heartbeat, he didn’t react at all.
Then his shoulders dipped.
“Oh,” he said quietly.
Not“why?”
Not“do I have to?”
Just“oh”—like he’d already known the world wouldn’t let him go that easily.
“I’m sorry,” I added, because it mattered that he heard it. “It’ll be in a few weeks, probably. We’ll work with Mark again, just like last time. We’ll get through it.”
He nodded once, eyes dropping to where our hands were joined. His fingers curled into mine, tight but not panicked.
“A few weeks?” he asked.
“Yes.”
He swallowed. “That’s… okay,” he said after a moment. “I mean. It’s not okay. But I can do it.”
I shifted closer, one knee touching the ground now, lowering myself until we were eye level.
He was quiet for a long moment. I could practically see the thoughts moving behind his eyes—memory stacking on memory, preparing.
“Will you be there?” he asked, finally looking up.
“Of course, baby. I’d never let you do this alone.”
